


Fearless Creatures

by Kylenne



Series: Torn From the Heavens: A Warden Reborn [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bisexual Female Character of Color, Black Character(s), Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, F/F, Femslash, Gisele Surana (OC), LGBTQ Female Character of Color, POV Female Character, Polyamorous Character, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/pseuds/Kylenne
Summary: Fresh from her Far Eastern triumph and the liberation of Doma, Gisele Surana returns to the Gyr Abanian front only to discover a new threat imperils the Alliance's struggle against the Empire: the Primal Lakshmi has been summoned by the Ananta. Now, Gisele must find a way to stop the Lady of Bliss before it's too late, and the key may well be found in her own.
Relationships: Ysayle Dangoulain/Warrior of Light
Series: Torn From the Heavens: A Warden Reborn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591174
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	Fearless Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> In Gisele's canon, Ysayle and Haurchefant joined the Scions in the aftermath of the Dragonsong arc.

The Rising Stones were silent, as night fell upon Mor Dhona, and Gisele crossed the threshold to the Scions’ inner sanctuary. With all eyes--and much of the order’s resources--fixed upon the Alliance’s war efforts in Gyr Abania, there were few left behind to hold down the fort, as it were, even within the outer circle. And at this late hour, those few had long since retired for the evening, for as Gisele strode through the empty foyer, she spied no sign of anyone. 

It was the library which was her purpose this night rather than a social call, at any rate, and so she followed the short corridor from the tavern hall in the foyer to make for it at once. Her steps were urgent, all unbidding, for she could not linger so far from the front; not now that a Primal had been summoned and the lives of their Ananta allies, as well as the rest of the Resistance, were potentially at stake. 

But Gisele, ever the scholar, had no desire to rush blind-long into a confrontation. As always, she sought to arm herself with rather more than blade and incantation: knowledge, the most powerful weapon of all. She would--and must--learn aught of her foe before thinking to confront her, and so she began at the most logical place, which was questioning the Ananta themselves. The Vira were forthcoming enough regarding their people’s sacred beliefs, but the Sri Lakshmi they revered was not the one summoned by a broodmother’s grief and despair. And owing to the profound theological divide between the Vira and their sister tribe the Qalyana, Gisele needed somewhat else to prepare her assault. Thus, leaving Lyse and the others, she returned south by Aetheryte in all haste to seek any morsel of lore she could find within the Scions’ library on the Creation Goddess so revered by the Ananta.

Much of the Scions’ extensive collection was still housed and maintained by Urianger at the Waking Sands, for it was far too prolific to transport to the base at Revenant’s Toll in its entirety. But Gisele’s brief sojourn to Vesper Bay proved fruitless; Urianger found little within its expansive shelves regarding Sri Lakshmi of the Ananta, and so he bade Gisele to search the library in Mor Dhona for what she needed.

Thus, the Stones. And it seemed there was as yet one Scion of the Seventh Dawn who remained within these amiable halls, indeed, for Gisele was not alone in the library. There, seated upon the short divan in the furthest corner with a haphazard stack of books piled at her feet, was a face dearer to Gisele than few others, and one she had not seen for what felt like an interminable age, though it had scarce been weeks.

“Ysayle,” Gisele breathed, all thoughts of her purpose flying out of her head at the sight of her love.

Ysayle glanced up sharply, her icy blue eyes grown wide; when they met Gisele’s gaze, they gleamed as surely as the oil lamp beside her. “Minette,” she said, beaming. She set her book down, rising up to beckon Gisele into her arms, and she flew into a tight embrace. “I missed you.” Ysayle sighed in content. 

“And I you, my love,” Gisele said, burying her nose in the elegant line of Ysayle’s neck, clinging to her waist, drinking in that familiar scent of lavender and wildflowers which always clung to her skin. The depths of yearning that so simple a thing stirred in Gisele startled even herself. She planted a quick kiss upon Ysayle’s neck, which elicited another pleased sigh. 

“Mmm, Gisele...do not tempt me so, I implore you. I’ve research to continue,” Ysayle said, gently disentangling herself from Gisele’s arms with no small amount of reluctance. She returned to the divan, and once more took up the tome she had been perusing when Gisele found her there. Gisele glanced at the leather bound spine and noted a familiar sigil, one she had seen often in the Vira village. 

“You know what transpired with the Ananta, then?” Gisele asked. She sank down upon Ysayle’s lap, as she had so many times before, utterly indifferent to her lover’s pleas. 

“Indeed—Alisaie raised me by linkpearl, and begged my aid in the matter, for Krile is in no condition to join the assault. I am hale enough now, besides, and I shall not sit idle while you face yet another Primal by your lonesome,” Ysayle said, her pale brows furrowed gravely. 

Gisele reached down, stroking the crown of Ysayle’s silvery locks with a soothing touch. “Please...I would not see you castigate yourself so. You needed time to recover, and I was victorious besides against Susano—as I was against Thordan’s unholy knights, and the accursed Triad. I shall endure, as always. If you are hale, then join me, but I shall not force your hand, not ever.”

Ysayle gazed up at her. “This is why I became a Scion, love. To atone for the wrongs I committed in the name of a righteous cause, yes—but of a surety, to fight at your side, so that the woman I have come to hold so dear is no longer forced to bear this burden alone. I, too, share Mother’s gift. If not for this, then for what?”

She returned to the pages, affixing her intent gaze firmly upon them. 

“What have you uncovered?” Gisele asked. 

“Several centuries ago, a Sharlayan scholar named Phaedra dwelled among the Ananta tribes, to learn aught of their culture, and collect their myths and folktales for the motherland’s libraries. But it seems after a time, she was caught up in a conflict, wherein Sri Lakshmi was summoned by the Qalyana—as now. Phaedra was tempered, and lived out her days among the Qalyana, in thrall to the Primal,” Ysayle replied. Her fingers stroked the pages of the volume in her hands rather curiously. “But not before penning one last tome...her lasting tribute to the beautiful Lady of Bliss.”

Gisele raised her brows, at that. Twas a strange title indeed, for a Primal. “Bliss...?”

“In her writings, Phaedra did not call it tempering, being so claimed by Lakshmi,” Ysayle said softly. “It is an Embrace...she calls to you, beckoning with promises of unearthly delights, to join her in an endless dream where one knows naught of pain or sorrow, merely bliss, in her warmth. And she loves her Dreamers well, it seems.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose if one were to be enslaved by a Primal, there are far worse fates,” Gisele said. She crinkled her nose with an impish giggle, then. “T’would not be the first time I would be so tempted by the allure of a beautiful Primal.”

“Forgive me, but one would think Garuda dreadfully loud?” Ysayle’s tone was dry as the Sagolii sands, and though her eyes never left the pages, they twinkled with a hint of mirth. 

Gisele snickered lightly. “Would that I spoke of that dreadful harpy. But you know well of whom I _did_ speak.”

“Hmm?” Ysayle asked innocently, as she idly turned the page of her tome. It was then that Gisele caught a glimpse of that flowing script, and what it contained. It emboldened her greatly. 

“Oh, do not so feign ignorance, Ysayle. It does not become a woman of your cunning,” Gisele said softly, stroking Ysayle’s hair once more, idly twirling a stray lock of silver about her slender finger. “Nor does pretending you search for the key to besting a Primal within a book of erotic verse.”

A rush of crimson spread across Ysayle’s cheeks. “I feign nothing, minette,” she murmured. “I only seek to understand.”

“Do you, then?” Gisele smiled, then, and gingerly lifted her short, silk skirts, shifting upon Ysayle’s lap to straddle her thighs. “I fear not the Lady of Bliss, nor her seductive embrace, for no Primal could ever stoke such yearning within me as the Lady of Ice once did.”

It was no mere loveplay, either. These were not simply honeyed words Gisele spoke only to tease her lover; it was an unfettered truth, and one she had told no one save Haurchefant. She dared not tell Ysayle at first, for a part of her feared what it might stir in her love, given the torrid complexity of emotion she held regarding her past. Gisele believed enough time had passed now, however, for those wounds to heal. 

“You found me beautiful, even then?” Ysayle asked softly, her voice filled with quiet awe. “Even clad in the flesh of a false saint—a Primal, when you were sworn to end such horrors?”

“Were it not for Mother’s gift, you could have tempered me then with a single crook of your icy finger,” Gisele replied. “I feared you had, even so, for after our duel, I awoke trembling in the night with desire for you—more than once.”

Ysayle’s lovely mien turned a deeper shade of crimson at that. “You jest.”

Gisele bent down, pressing her lips to Ysayle’s brow, trailing a kiss to her temple. “In my dreams, when we fought...betimes I knelt before you, a penitent sinner, and offered my contrition with a fervent tongue,” she purred. “And whenever I awakened, my mind could think on naught else.” 

“You give me cause to doubt my path of redemption, for once,” Ysayle said, her lips curved into a wry smile. “Such delightful talk is enough to inspire hoarding of crystals, once more...”

Gisele giggled softly, then gently drew her fingers down Ysayle’s cheek, stroking her flushed skin with a pair of unusually short nails and a feather light touch. 

Ysayle’s breath hitched and her lips parted slightly; Gisele asked, low and soft, “Why should we need crystals?” 

She hunched down, then, slipping her tongue between Ysayle’s soft lips in a deep and lingering kiss. Gods, but she was as soft and sweet as Gisele remembered, with honey upon her tongue, likely from her tea. The book slipped from her grasp, falling onto the floor with a light thud, but Ysayle cared not; she drew her trembling arms around Gisele, and slid warm hands into her wealth of silvery curls, tugging them back with a hint of firmness that made Gisele’s own breath catch inside her throat. And Gisele pulled away from Ysayle, as she permitted her head to be pulled back, exposing said throat. Ysayle trailed hungry lips down it til she found the hollow, suckling Gisele’s skin, grazing it with her teeth.

“You were not the only one who woke trembling with desire, after we fought,” Ysayle whispered, her breath hot against Gisele’s skin, sending gooseflesh to rise upon her bronze arms.

“Mmm?”

“You’ve no idea how much I wanted you, even then,” Ysayle said softly, skimming the softness of Gisele’s décolleté with featherlight strokes of her fingertips, in just the way to drive her mad with want. “I scarce understood it myself. But I had so many dreams of turning you to our cause. We would walk the wilds of Dravania, and make passionate love beneath the stars. Mayhap that is why I agreed to Alphinaud’s gambit, when we parlayed. It was not solely to end the war.”

Gisele’s heart pounded a fierce staccato of anticipation, for Ysayle’s delicate hands swept behind her back, finding the laces of her silk bodice with ease. With deft, practiced fingers, she unraveled them sight unseen, and so freed, Gisele relaxed her posture even as she desperately craved Ysayle’s touch. Warm hands slipped the dusty rose damask down her shoulders, slow and deliberate, caressing her hot skin, followed by tender kisses upon her exposed flesh. When they reached her bare bosom, all thought of anything but Ysayle’s skilled hands and eager mouth upon her soft curves flew from Gisele’s mind. Her breath came hot and faltering with every touch. 

An involuntary moan escaped Gisele’s lips, when she felt Ysayle’s purse themselves about her dark nipple, caressing it with a swirling tongue, and suckling gently until it hardened within her mouth. A fresh wave of need washed over Gisele, lighting a cauldron of tingling heat between her quivering thighs, and she buried her trembling fingers in Ysayle’s snowy locks. 

“Fuck me,” Gisele whispered softly, through gasping breaths. 

Ysayle gazed up at her. “Right here, in the library?”

A sudden stray thought set her aflame, minding her of the heady days of her hot blood adolescence in the Circle, when she stole secret, forbidden pleasures with her first love, Ser Victoria, in the dark corners of the library, with the thrill of potentially being discovered a goad to her passions like little else. 

Ysayle tensed suddenly, a hand drawn sharply to her temple as she clamped her eyes shut; Gisele knew it all too well, and wondered precisely what manner of visions swam before them. It was over nearly as quick as it had begun, and Ysayle’s icy blue eyes were bright when they gazed once more at her. 

“I don’t care,” Gisele said, stroking her cheek with a trembling hand. 

Ysayle’s answering laughter was low and soft and darkly wicked. “It appears you never have, you delightful minx. What a naughty little apprentice you were. Tis a wonder you learned anything at all of thaumaturgy in your Circle.” 

Gisele could not help but laugh in mild self-deprecation, even as she ground against Ysayle’s thighs with a playfully sensual roll of her hips. “I am what I am, love. I always have been, and I have never pretended otherwise,” she said, once the laughter subsided. 

Ysayle’s hands reached down beneath the hem of Gisele’s perilously short skirts, to cup her cheeks with a firm and affectionate squeeze. “Do not doubt that I love you for it,” she said, her lips curving into a soft and sensual smile as she did. “But, truly--what if we are caught?”

Gisele bit her lip against the thought of it. “Then let them watch. Besides, if it truly distressed you, mayhap the time for prudence would have been _before_ you began to undress me and suckle my bosom, my dear...”

“Touché. Very well...I must do as my Antecedent commands,” Ysayle breathed. 

She slid her hands back around Gisele’s thighs to stroke them above the tops of her tall leather boots, inching closer to her throbbing mound with every caress. 

“My...how wet you are,” Ysayle mused softly, in quiet amazement, as her fingers teased the lacy silk between Gisele’s thighs; it was fair soaked through with her lust. 

Gisele squirmed beneath her touch, spreading her thighs in further invitation, and utterly without shame. “Have you forgotten what you do to me, already?” she said, with a teasing little giggle; her breath hitched in her throat, then, at the sensation of Ysayle’s fingers lightly stroking her folds through the sodden pantalettes, lingering upon her swollen pearl. 

And she gasped in delight, as she felt Ysayle’s longest finger, slender and hot, slip between soaked lace and warm skin, piercing her to bury deep inside. 

“Never,” Ysayle whispered fiercely against her. “Have you, my Lady Fortemps?”

Her burning desire stoked to a fever pitch, Gisele bent down to find Ysayle’s mouth with her own, hungrily plunging her tongue down her lover’s throat even as Ysayle stroked her hidden depths with a slender and skilled finger. Gisele spread her thighs even wider, rising up a little off Ysayle’s lap, and Ysayle slipped another finger inside her, thrusting the two hard and deep, as her thumb found Gisele’s pearl once more, slick and swollen, and began to rub it. 

“Gods,” Gisele moaned, and reached for Ysayle’s bare shoulders, tightly gripping them as she began to grind against her lover’s deft hand, in time to her caresses. Ysayle’s fingers were beyond skilled as they penetrated Gisele deeper and harder, stroking her sensitive inner walls in precisely every spot to coax yet more bliss. And with every roll of Gisele’s hips, Ysayle’s thumb stroked harder against her clit, delicious tension building between her thighs; gods but Ysayle made it so very tortuous for Gisele to keep control with such delightful fingers within her and without her. So she gave herself over to it, gladly surrendering to pleasure, her hedonistic moans growing louder the closer she inched toward release.

“Have a care,” Ysayle purred against Gisele’s neck, as she crooked a come hither motion inside her. 

“ _Ysayle_...” Gisele moaned her name, long and languorous. 

“My. What if Y’shtola hears you?”

Gisele shuddered and clamped her teeth down hard upon Ysayle’s bare shoulder to muffle the cry of ecstasy that shot out of her quivering body as the first cresting wave of pleasure washed over her, and threatened to drown her. Of a surety, it was the thought of that specific comrade discovering them in the throes of carnal pleasures as much as the pleasures themselves that sent Gisele over the edge at last.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” Gisele said, panting against Ysayle’s shoulder. 

Ysayle giggled wickedly. “Have you forgotten what once I was named?” she asked a bit archly, even as she stroked Gisele’s soft curls. 

Gisele giggled in turn and found Ysayle’s lips again with her own, kissing her tenderly with a teasing hint of tongue. “Of course not. Would that I had known the blood of Lady Iceheart ran so hot, in truth,” she replied, “for I would have sought her out far sooner.”

“So you always say,” Ysayle chuckled lightly. She took her fingers then, still slick with Gisele’s pleasure, and slipped them one after another into her mouth, licking them clean with a contented sigh. And Gisele’s own grew a bit dry at the sight of her obvious pleasure. “Would that _I_ had known how sweet the Warrior of Light would taste upon my tongue, for I would never have let her leave Snowcloak.”

Gisele reached down between her thighs, toying with her own folds; sensitive as they were in the aftermath of orgasm, they tingled with newfound excitement. And then she brought up her hand, slipping her slick fingers between Ysayle’s lips one by one; the other hand slipped inside Ysayle’s silk bodice, lightly massaging the soft flesh within. 

“You like how I taste?” she purred sweetly, and Ysayle moaned her muffled assent into Gisele’s fingers even as she suckled them.

Gisele replaced her fingers with a hot and eager tongue once more, intoxicated by the faint taste of her own salt upon Ysayle’s lips. “Don’t you want more, love?” she asked.

“I could never have enough,” Ysayle breathed, her voice low and choked thick with lust, as she gripped Gisele’s ass once more and kneaded her cheeks firmly. She found Gisele’s neck with her mouth once more, hungrily showering it with hot kisses, nipping at her skin with gentle but firm teeth; it sent fresh shivers of delight down Gisele’s spine. Ysayle brought her groping hand against Gisele’s taut ass with a stinging little swat, and Gisele bit her lip against the moan of pleasure that rose up from within her while Ysayle began tugging her silken pantalettes down by the edges.

“I grow weary of these,” Ysayle growled.

“Let’s rid ourselves of them then,” Gisele said with a lusty smile. She managed to peel herself from Ysayle’s lap, and braced against her to support her mildly wobbly legs as she stood up. Ysayle rose and shifted her weight upon the divan to sit up straight, then beckoned Gisele closer; she moved close to the edge, and hooked her fingers about the silk to pull it down slowly, taking care to stretch it over the tops of Gisele’s boots. Strangely—or perhaps not, given what Gisele knew stirred Ysayle’s blood—she removed neither boots, nor skirt, instead rising up to take Gisele by the hand. 

“Come, my love. A divan won’t do for this,” Ysayle said, kissing Gisele softly, and led her out of the library and down the corridor to her private quarters. 

They were spartan, yet well-appointed; in contrast to Gisele, Ysayle preferred the elegance of simplicity, always. Shutting the door behind them, Ysayle set the fire in the stone mantle alight with a nonchalant flick of her wrist and a quick burst of aether, then drew Gisele to the poster bed opposite. With great care—and swiftness—Ysayle shed Gisele of the half-tangled remnants of her unlaced bodice, letting it drop to the floor. 

Gisele lowered her hands to her skirt with a smoldering glance. “Shall I…?”

“Not yet,” Ysayle said softly, placing a finger against Gisele’s lips. “I wish to behold you this way.”

“As you wish.” With a demure lowering of her lashes, and a suitably obedient smile, Gisele sat down upon the bed, clad only in her skirt and boots, and leaned back to artfully sprawl upon the sheets of soft white linen, just so. She could not help such a manner of impishness, not where her Ysayle was concerned; it had been far too long. 

“Saint preserve me,” Ysayle breathed, her eyes alight in wonder as she hovered over the edge of the bed, letting her amorous gaze fall upon Gisele. “You’re exquisite.”

“As are you. Would that I could behold _you_ , in such a manner,” Gisele said, with a playful little pout. 

Ysayle’s cheeks turned crimson, and she laughed; mayhap it was her laughter, rich and warm, that Gisele missed as much as and even more than her icy beauty and deft hands. Ysayle’s bashful smile spread warmth indeed within Gisele’s chest, as much as the crackling hearth fire against her bare skin. 

“Patience, minette. I would savor this first,” Ysayle said softly. “Come here.”

Gisele obediently crawled down to the edge of the bed, but not before taking up a small, tasseled pillow, and she held it out for Ysayle with an impish smile upon her lips. 

Ysayle said nothing, but took it gladly, and placed it on the sandstone floor before the bed, to sink down upon, resting her knees upon it. Gisele leaned forward, kissing Ysayle soundly, before shifting to sit at the edge of the bed, and spreading her thighs once more in shameless invitation.

“Savor as you will, my lady,” Gisele purred. 

Ysayle did not need to be told twice. She reached beneath Gisele’s thighs and firmly hoisted her closer to the edge, guiding Gisele’s long, leather sheathed legs to rest upon her shoulders. Her hands caressed the exposed bronze skin above the boot cuffs, her lips following in their wake. Gently lifting the delicate silk of Gisele’s skirt aside with smooth and soft hands. Ysayle trailed languid kisses along Gisele’s inner thighs; with featherlight strokes of her fingers, she toyed mercilessly with her beloved’s folds for an unbearable age, hovering near and exhaling hot breaths upon them, but little else. Finally, she parted them at last with her fingers, opening Gisele as a blossoming flower, crooking the sensitive pink flesh between her knuckles, and revealed the glistening pearl therein.

And then, Ysayle buried her tongue between them. 

Gisele gasped and whimpered with bliss as Ysayle’s lips pursed upon her swollen clit, suckling it with a gentle firmness. She brushed stray locks of silver from Ysayle’s face, and gathered her long mane up in her hands to hold it aside for her. 

Nothing on life was like unto Ysayle’s hot tongue burning slow and slick across Gisele’s cleft, over and again, hard and wet. This was not to say that her trio of strapping and eager knights were inept, not by any means. But they were men, and though they pleased her well— _so very well_ —Ysayle was a woman, in the same manner as Gisele, and pleased her as only one could. 

Gisele let the heavy curtain of white silk with her hands fall to the side of her boot, upon Ysayle’s shoulder, and rested back upon her elbows to luxuriate in the worship of Ysayle’s lips and tongue. 

Betimes, Ysayle lifted her gaze to meet Gisele’s with lids heavy with desire, never ceasing her strokes, and it goaded Gisele to thrust her hips in time to Ysayle’s rhythm, grinding her swollen sex into her love’s ravenous mouth. Ysayle was determined, it seemed, to lick her clean--flicking the tip of her tongue to swirl against Gisele’s entrance before slipping her fingers inside her again, and Gisele’s eyes rolled back in her head when she did. 

But Gisele was insatiable. She wanted even more than this. She wanted to caress Ysayle in turn, to touch her, to _taste_ her sweetness upon her lips: to worship her as the penitent she so dreamed of being, what now seemed a lifetime ago. 

And when she found herself teetering once more upon the edge of oblivion, Gisele jerked herself back from it with nigh herculean discipline, pulling away from Ysayle. 

Ysayle, it seemed, was pulled out of her trance. She gazed up at Gisele in utter confusion, her chin positively smeared with Gisele’s pleasure. 

“Come here,” Gisele said, echoing her words and beckoning to her with a crooked finger. 

Understanding then, Ysayle did so, but not before sliding off the remnants of Gisele’s garments, to lay her utterly bare. In turn, Gisele unraveled the knotted laces of Ysayle’s pale blue bodice with her very teeth, freeing the heavy teardrops of her breasts to caress and squeeze them. Ysayle’s nipples, pink and large, were hard as agates, and Gisele pinched them between her delicate fingertips, flicked her tongue upon them, and suckled them by turns, luxuriating in Ysayle’s moans of pleasure. 

Unlike Ysayle moments earlier, Gisele wasted no time in stripping her lover bare, pulling off her gauzy skirts and leather boots with determined hands. She did take a moment, when she eased Ysayle onto her back, to admire the ivory lace of her pantalettes with its delicate snowflake patterns; those were a gift made by Gisele’s own needle, and one she wore exceedingly well, to Gisele’s everlasting satisfaction. She noted then that the lacework was far sheerer than she remembered; it was soaked entirely through, and Gisele could not help but stroke it with her fingers, eliciting hitched breaths from her prone lover. 

By the Fury, but Ysayle was wet--somehow wetter even than Gisele had been, when Ysayle fingered her so deftly upon the divan in the library. Gisele did the same now as her beloved had, slipping her slender hand inside the delicate lace, palming the smoothness of Ysayle’s mound. 

“My love,” Gisele breathed softly, purring as she lightly stroked Ysayle’s nether lips with an idle finger, utterly delighting in how very wet she was--how very wet _Gisele_ had made her. “Is this all for me?”

Ysayle spread her thighs wider, raising her hips up in desperate need, tangling her fingers in Gisele’s wealth of silver curls. “Gods, Gisele—” 

“I would have you say it, my Lady Iceheart,” Gisele said, swirling her finger around Ysayle’s swollen clit. 

“I am yours, my Lady Fortemps,” Ysayle moaned. 

Gisele pulled her hand away, only to tug the ivory lace down the length of Ysayle’s willowy legs and toss the delicate garment to the side. 

Bare to one another at last and entirely, they explored one another’s bodies as though it were the very first time, with trembling hands and eager lips. It was far from the first, of course, but it was a manner of homecoming, this, and they both wished to savor it. Gisele’s hands followed the soft, supple curves of Ysayle’s body, remembering and remembering: there, a dimple to be kissed; there, the scar left by the sharp memory of steel—Gisele’s own rapier. And she lingered there, pressing her full lips reverently against the long line of Ysayle’s throat.

Ysayle was no less reverent, no less full of yearning, as she sank back into the pillows with Gisele sprawled atop her, reaching up to take her breasts once more in hand to squeeze them hard. She nudged open Gisele’s legs with her knee, and guided them until they were straddling each other’s thighs. Gisele’s hips had a mind of their own, it seemed, for they rolled sensually against Ysayle, and she ground herself hard upon her lover’s thigh, leaving a trail of slick matched only by the one Ysayle left upon her own. 

“Taste me as I taste you,” Ysayle moaned against Gisele’s neck. 

Gisele whimpered in delight, for she knew precisely what Ysayle pled of her, and she was all too eager to grant it. With customary Elezen grace, they disentangled themselves from one another, and Gisele twisted and turned her body that she might face the foot of the bed; as she did, Ysayle slid down off the pillows, laying flat upon her back, and slithered between Gisele’s thighs—from behind. 

Gisele lowered herself upon Ysayle’s face. 

Ysayle’s fingers parted her nether lips, once more seeking out the glistening pearl within and suckling it hard; Gisele cried out incoherently, bliss tingling across her spine at the delicious heat and friction. She sprawled down across the length of Ysayle’s trembling body, cupped her mound with her hand once more, and then buried her own face between Ysayle’s thighs. 

Ysayle’s pussy quivered against Gisele’s mouth, hot and wet, and Gisele lapped up her juices as though they were the nectar of the gods. She parted her slick folds with her tongue, finding Ysayle’s swollen clit, deliciously large--she suckled it hard, flicking her tongue against it over and over. 

It was a test of wills as any they once had as foes, but now they sought to pleasure one another even as they became lost in their bliss. Gisele ached to make Ysayle come upon her eager tongue, as she hadn’t in what felt like an interminable age. Even as Gisele rolled her hips, grinding her pussy against Ysayle’s sensuous tongue, she slipped her fingers inside her lover; Gisele moaned at the heat she found within, warmth which belied Ysayle one time epithet. 

Would that the world knew how hot Lady Iceheart’s fires burned, in truth. 

They writhed upon the soft sheets, utterly drunk upon one another--a tangle of long, elegant Elezen limbs and caressing hands and reverent mouths and rolling hips. Were it not for the stark contrast in their complexions, it would have been impossible to mark where one ended and the other began, so lost in each other they were, so hedonistic the dance. Gisele rode Ysayle’s tongue and fingers like a steed hells for leather; Ysayle’s hips thrust against Gisele’s hands and mouth, inviting both ever deeper inside her. All the while, they panted and moaned in counterpoint as though they were in heat, without a thought or care for anything but the pursuit of their ravenous desire for each other. 

And then--even in the heights of pleasure--some small part of Gisele’s keen mind realized that this—what they shared—was the key to everything. 

What was Lakshmi’s false bliss compared to this, to the physical ecstasy of Ysayle’s warm tongue caressing her folds again and again, stirring Gisele to new heights of pleasure with every hot stroke against her clit? What could a Primal’s conjured entreaties possibly offer Gisele that she did not know a thousandfold in the sweet and salty taste of Ysayle’s pleasure upon her tongue? What siren song could ever be sweeter than Ysayle’s moans of pleasure--muffled though they were against the heat of Gisele’s sodden sex?

Nothing. 

Ysayle was the first to surrender in the end; with a final upward jolt of her hips, she came hard against Gisele’s lashing tongue, her inner walls quivering and tensing about Gisele’s fingers; her delirious cries of ecstasy rang a higher octave in Gisele’s ears, muffled though they were by her thigh. It was enough to unravel Gisele in turn; she threw back her head and cried out Ysayle’s name as her back arched and a final wave of sweet release washed over her, fingers dug into the sheets, sparks dancing across the darkness of her clamped lids. 

At last, Gisele collapsed upon the bed, rolling to right herself; she rested her cheek upon Ysayle’s sweat-damp shoulder and clung to her. Ysayle brought an arm tightly around her, and they lay entwined as such for some time. 

“I’ve missed you so, Gisele,” Ysayle whispered, kissing her softly again and again, her tender lips still tasting of their mingled pleasures. 

“And I you, my heart,” Gisele said, idly stroking her silky hair, “for I love you with the whole of it. If I should find myself in the Far East again one day, I should like to show you the Azim Steppe. The stars shine bright there as the skies of Dravania.”

“I would love that,” Ysayle said. “Not the least of which because I don’t intend on letting you journey so far away again without me.”

Ysayle parted Gisele’s lips with her tongue once more in a long, sweet kiss. 

“Mmm,” Gisele began with a contented sigh as they parted, “I think I’ve found the answer to defeating Lakshmi...” 

“As have I,” Ysayle said. “It lies in our bond, does it not?”

Gisele smiled, swirling lazy circles upon Ysayle’s glistening skin with her finger. “It appears we came to the same conclusion. How very apt.”

“It makes the most sense, though. Of a surety, Lakshmi cannot hope to temper either of us outright, not with the protection rendered us by Mother’s gift. Therefore, she must deceive us, even seduce us into casting it aside somehow. Mayhap with the weaving of illusions, or some profound manner of temptation,” Ysayle said. 

Gisele nodded, pursing her lips in thought. To hear it spoken thus stirred her memory, and a connection was made that even Gisele had not realized until then.

“Indeed, I think much the same. In Thedas, there were demons—voidsent, I suppose, who similarly ensnared mortals. A Primal is, of course, more powerful by multitudes, and a simple assertion of will, however strong, would not be enough, I think. Nay—one needs possess an anchor of sorts to defy such a weaver of false dreams--a means to root oneself in the world of the waking. Our bond, profound as it is, will act as such,” Gisele said. 

“I do not doubt you, Gisele, for I arrived at the selfsame solution. It only seems so...simple,” Ysayle said. 

“Betimes the simplest solution is the correct one. But I believe it with all my heart,” Gisele insisted. She reached up with a gentle hand, stroking Ysayle’s cheek. “If her siren song should grow too loud within your ears, think of me, crying out your name this night.”

Ysayle smiled, planting soft lips upon Gisele’s. “And if her embrace seems too alluring, remember mine,” she whispered. 

“Always. And if her dreams prove too tempting, think of the ones we shared, the ones we made come true,” Gisele said. “The amorous ones, yes, where we made love beneath the stars of Dravania—and the ones of peace, where we shone the long buried light of truth upon the Holy See, and ended an unholy war, that Man and dragonkind might live once more in harmony. No false, cloying dream with which Lakshmi could tempt me could ever be so sweet as that.”

Ysayle’s bottom lip quivered, ever so slightly, and tears formed in her icy blue eyes; she took Gisele’s face into gentle hands, and showered it with a thousand thousand kisses. 

“I love you, Gisele. Always, and forever.”

* * *

“Have you found what you were searching for, then?”

To Gisele’s surprise, Y’shtola was seated at the round table in the foyer salon, drinking a cup of tea, when she emerged early the next morning with her pack in hand. 

“Shtola! I—yes, and forgive me for parting so soon, but we must leave at once for Gyr Abania,” Gisele answered. “How are you feeling?”

Y’shtola laughed softly, and took a long sip of her tea. “You set forth to confront a Primal, yet it is my own well being with which you concern yourself. Do not fret overmuch for me, my friend.”

“I never make promises I can’t keep, Shtola. Haven’t you realized that by now?” Gisele said, with a fond smile.

“...Besides the one to mind precisely where you leave your unmentionables?” 

Gisele’s eyes grew wide as she stared agape at Y’shtola, who smiled back with a hint of fang. 

“Honestly,” Y’shtola said, “I would never cast aspersions upon your escapades, but the _library_? I’ve not done that since the Academy.”

Naturally, it was at that precise moment that Ysayle emerged into the foyer. 

“Oh, fair morning Y’shtola. I did not know you were awake,” Ysayle said. 

“Fair morning indeed,” Y’shtola said sweetly, with an incline of her head, pivoting smoothly as was her wont. “I hear you two are off to fight another Primal. Do have a care, and at least endeavour to avoid your usual heroics. I’m not certain which of you is worse in that regard, and I’m also not certain I’ve the strength at present to aid in dragging _you_ back from the brink a second time.”

“We will,” Ysayle promised. 

Y’shtola smiled at her from behind the tea cup. “And for the Twelve’s sake, nothing silly with any crystals?”

“I shall try my best,” Ysayle said wryly. She turned to Gisele, lacing their slender fingers together, and squeezed Gisele’s hand affectionately. “Shall we be off, then? I suppose Hawthorne’s is the closest Aetheryte to the Wall, is it not?”

Gisele distinctly focused on the warmth of Ysayle’s hand, rather than the warmth which spread across her face at her sudden mortification. “Yes, love. We’ll take the route overland across the border, that you might make your attunements.” She glanced over at Y’shtola, who continued smiling at her. Gisele did her best to ignore it. “Goodbye, Shtola. I hope the day finds you well,” she said. 

“Fair winds to you both,” Y’shtola said by way of parting. Her insufferable smile grew even brighter then. “They’re in the wash, by the by. I thought you might want them back,” she added. 

Gisele fled. 

“What was that about?” Ysayle asked in confusion, following close behind.

“Never you mind,” Gisele replied, primly adjusting the frog of her rapier’s scabbard. And before Ysayle could offer a single word of protest, Gisele was already concentrating deeply, gathering the flows of aether within and without, the forest glade firmly set in her mind’s eye. 

Gisele had never teleported anywhere so quickly, before or since.


End file.
